


Post Mundum

by saintevieve



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Apocalypse, Futuristic, Gen, Outer Space, Post-Apocalypse, Science Fiction, Solar Flares, Space Flight, Survival, Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-27 04:58:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13873650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintevieve/pseuds/saintevieve
Summary: When the sun flares out, humanity is thrust into a cold, wintry darkness. Working together in their last hours, mankind forms an organization to attempt to save the remnants of humanity. This group of intelligent and diverse men and women must find a path to survive to avoid permanent extinction.Temperatures drop into the negative triple digits, oceans freeze over, and life withers and dies. Just how long can a species surive without the sun?





	1. The Exodus Project: I

**Author's Note:**

> Storyline inspiration taken from the 2007 sci-fi/thriller film Sunshine.  
> Working mojo powered by the YT channel Kurzgesagt - In a Nutshell.

**2074 - PRIMARY STAGE OF THE “EXODUS PROJECT”**

A capsule covered in a fine layer of frost opens for the first time in four decades with a quiet pop of detachment, and then a slow hiss as the cover slides to the side. Clouds of vaporized ice exhume the slight, thin body that lies within the capsule’s interior. Long, wild tufts of hair flow from the woman’s head, falling all the way to her ankles and pooling at the bottom of the horizontal capsule, and a smattering of freckles dust over pale cheekbones. The woman remains very still for a time, and after a while it seems that she is one of the many subjects that did not survive the cryogenic chamber. 

However, her vitals on the outside of the capsule still read that she is healthy and very alive.  
OXTON, LENA - FEMALE, AGED 26  
Painfully slowly, the woman’s eyes open to reveal startlingly-bright chocolate irises. They blink once, twice, before the woman is inhaling sharply and spluttering as her lungs struggle to work independently. Her eyes widen and a delicate hand presses to her chest as her spasms stop. She takes a few, calming breaths before she is able to observe her surroundings.

“Good morning, Oxton,” says a distinctly female synthetic voice. Lena hesitantly steps out of the capsule, a few wisps of nitrogen accompanying her limbs as she maneuvers out of the capsule. 

“Athena? Is that you?” Lena calls out, her voice hoarse and low from unuse. There was a “love” coming at the end of the question, but Lena bites it off, unsure of why, exactly, she does it. 

“It is indeed I,” the synthetic voice replies. There’s a stagnant pause in the air as Lena takes a deep breath, struggling to stand up on weak muscles. Athena takes note of this and immediately remarks, “Agent Oxton, seeing as this is the first day after your cryofreeze, you will be given a day to accommodate to living without the aidance of the cryogenic machine. However, tomorrow effective immediately, you will report to the training room.”

Lena nods, and suddenly takes note of her long, unruly hair. “Ew!” she declares childishly, gathering her hair up in a ponytail and holding it away from her. “My hair has never been this long in my life,” she says as she eyes it with distaste. 

“We will have it cut immediately, per your request,” says Athena coolly. 

“Good,” Lena murmurs, and begins to shuffle forward, wiping a hand across the features of her face with a yawn. “How did the others fare?”

Lena knew full well the risks she would undergo when she signed up for Exodus. The rigorous training to even endure the take-off from Earth was one, and the uncomfortable lifestyle and lack of real gravity (causing a loss of bone density) onboard the ship would be two others, but the most dangerous aspect was the cryofreeze chambers. It was a science not fully perfected, and each of the agents who had signed up for the program were fully aware.

The cryofreeze chambers had a success rate of not even a 50/50 shot of making it. 

It was a 5% chance that you would survive.

So, all things considered, Lena was pretty lucky. _Extraordinarily_ lucky, really, to have survived.

“All 43 other team members were found dead upon the opening of their chamber. Their bodies, if not already decayed, were sent to be made into reusable organic compost. Most interestingly of the deaths, Agent Suarez’s vitals appeared to be dead as soon as his cryochamber closed - the machinery isn’t very clear in its report, but apparently the nanotechnology that wired his brain to an artificial server failed to perform successfully, and he was braindead almost immediately. The biosapienic atmosphere needed to maintain homeostasis within the cryochamber appeared to have no outward effects on agents Ziang and Nguyen, and they died of hypothermia. Agent Roberts-”

“That’s enough, Athena,” Lena said wearily, not interested in the macabre description of her friends’ deaths. “Who survived?”

Athena paused, and the silence was almost unnerving enough for Lena to turn around and question whether in the four decades she’d been asleep, Athena had had time to become sentient. However, her thoughts were dispelled as Athena answered placidly, “Agents Colomar, Fawkes, Zhou, Lacroix, Correia dos Santos, and O'Deorain.”

Lena relaxed as she heard the names of the two friends she’d befriended prior to boarding _The Junker Queen_ \- Lucio and Mei. The two were kind and jovial, and Lena had been greatly worried if the three of them would survive, or even worse: if she would be the only one to survive of the three of them. _Some lonely existence that would make for_ , Lena thought bitterly, but immediately chased the thought away, chastising herself for thinking so negatively when everything in the present was fine.

“Are the rest awake?” Lena asked. 

“All for the exception of Zhou. Her vitals read that she is alive and well, but there is something wrong with her chamber. I will not risk opening it until we either find what is wrong, or the other agents find a way to safely open her chamber.”

Lena tensed at that, and was immediately tempted to find her friend’s chamber to see what was wrong, but sighed. Undoubtedly, Agent D’Deorain - a redhead who Lena had been wary of since the beginning - was the smartest of them all. While she was a geneticist, and not an engineer, she still was the best when it came down to logistics and problem-solving, and if even she hadn’t been able to get Mei out of her chamber, there was nothing Lena could do in the meantime. 

Lena made her way quietly to the mess hall, somehow remembering where it was even after all this time. A hologram of Katya Volskaya, the president of New Earth - or, at least she had been at the time of Lena’s departure - was projected across a small space of clear metallic surface. The hologram needed to be projected across a solid surface, because the air particles, unlike Earth, were not diffused strongly enough with oxygen. _The Junker Queen_ had been conserving oxygen over the years as much as it could, and upon the awakening of the remaining survivors, the ship was slowly starting to reinstate the oxygen in the atmosphere.

There was very little space aboard _The Junker Queen_ as there was, and Lacroix - their head of engineering and repairs - had always viewed the space specifically reserved for holographic instruction as a waste of space. Lena, to a certain extent, did agree - aboard any spaceship, there was hardly any room for comfort: everything had to be utilized efficiently. However, she _did_ miss having a full holo-screen back home. Quickly, Lena shut off that train of thought. Thinking about home always made her miss the family and friends she had left behind, and there was no use dwelling on people she’d never see again. She had a mission to complete.

“...the cryogenetists have predicted that only 8% of all the agents will survive. Whatever your number now, the fate of the world rests on your shoulders,” Katya Volskaya was saying as Lena entered the mess hall, her soft blue eyes undermined by an unforgiving steel gaze. Her translucent eyes and drawn brows conveyed that there could be no room for error, would be no room for error. Even the slightest of misgivings wouldn’t be tolerated. “It may take a few days for you to fully recover your memory. If you find you are having any lapses in recollection, Athena can assist you in recovering prior memories.

“Despite today being your first day out of the chamber, there will be no time to waste. You must begin documenting any changes made to the ship, including mechanical and automechanical repairs made by the _Dimidius_ Bastion unit and the Ganymede - this task can be assigned to anyone. The greenhouse must checked in on, as well as the oxygen reserves. The way the ship has been running, it is predicted the oxygen stored will be able to last the members on board another four or so years, depending on how many survivors you have. The ship’s course must be adjusted, seeing as you might have fallen off the deviated plan due to meteor showers or other artificial errors. The ranking of command will be available shortly, so that you can determine which of the following members still alive will now take helm of the ship, along with a map of the solar system. I wish you the best of luck, and the utmost success. Farewell, space travelers, and Godspeed.” 

With that, the hologram immediately flickered off, and the space was quiet once more. Lúcio, who had been facing the doorway, now turned and met Lena’s eye. An instant wave of relief crossed his face seeing Lena up and walking, and he nodded at her by way of greeting.

Lena offered a nod back, leaning against the doorway and observing the members at the table. 

Fawkes - the explosionist, Lena recalled, questioning why exactly they had invited an expert in demolitions, of all things, onboard an incredibly delicate spaceship. Lacroix, a man with a pencil mustache who appeared to be only a bit older than Lena herself. He cut quite a dashing figure. Colomar, whose eccentric choice of hairstyle and vividly colored eyes had made an impression on Lena the first day in the Exodus program. The girl made her uneasy. And, of course, O’Deorain, the geneticist, whose many experiments bordered the line of “ethically legal”. Only Lacroix bothered to give her a small wave - the rest were in their heads.

Fawkes interrupted the blanket of unnerving silence, abruptly saying, “Anyone going to be a darlin’ and explain what the _Dimidonkus_ Bastion Gany-thing is?”

“It’s _**Dimidius**_ ,” Lacroix corrected, “and it is half of a Bastion home appliance, remodeled of course with specifications to fit that of a spaceship. Rather than having a singular, massive unit, the _Dimidius_ Bastion is actually a set of interconnected pieces of hardware that work together to repair the ship. The Ganymede is a companion to the Dimidius Bastion, and it operates as a unit that cares for the ship’s internal affairs, such as sealing the airtight area between outside space and the inside.”

“Great,” Fawkes said, biting his fingernail and sighing. “I have no idea what any of that rubbish meant.”

Lena wanted to laugh, because she agreed - not that she thought any less of Lacroix for it; if anything, she was rather impressed by his knowledge of technical matters - but she bit it back, because Colomar and O’Deorain seemed to have a rather grim attitude that was dampening the mood.

Well, Colomar wasn’t exactly grim. If anything, she was devious, a smirk playing across her lips as she pulled up a hologram of the chain of command. “Well, would you take a look at this,” she said, a heavy Spanish accent gracing her tongue. “It seems that, since agents Sanchez, Klein, Graves, and Figueroa have been...how would you phrase it, “eliminated”...and Agent Zhou is still in her cryofreeze chamber, it appears that I am the captain of this ship.” Colomar glanced up with a sly look, her mouth twisting upwards. “So from now on, that’s _Capitán_ Colomar to the rest of you.”

“Aye aye, cap’,” Lena said under her breath and instantly regretting it when she saw Colomar’s eyes cut to hers, scrutinizing her form. Her gaze lingered for only a moment longer before she slammed the palms of her hands on the table, startling the geneticist and Lacroix. “Okay! So I’ll check out the flight navigations, set us back on track. Lacroix-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Fawkes interrupted, pointing an accusatory finger at her, which Colomar eyed with distaste. “Why are you suddenly in charge of navigations? What’s to say that...um, what’s your name mate? Ah, right. Lacroix over here doesn’t know more about directions and stuff than you?”

Lena’s mouth turned upwards in amusement. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought Fawkes was drunk. 

Colomar sighed. “Listen here, _Jamison_ , the captain flies the ship. Not to mention, I have a way with technology. So, if you could, leave it to me. Trust me, _confiame_ , I know what I’m doing.” She paused for a moment, allowing Fawkes to grumble his disapproval before she continued. “Lacroix, I want you to check with the _Dimidius_ and Ganymede and log all reports over the last forty years. Check how our signal is with Earth, and see if we can’t send a light message back home. O’Deorain, I want you working with Agent Zhou’s chamber. I want you to find a way to get her out of there safely, and quickly too. Work with Athena if you need. Santos, you’re in the greenhouse. I want all forms of biological life accounted for, and I want you to register exactly how many oxygen tanks have been saved, and calculate how much time we can live off of them for. And Oxton,” Colomar said, her violet eyes creasing in a way that made Lena uncomfortable, “you’ll be flying co-pilot with me.

“Are there any questions?” she said, turning around to face the table.

“Yeah,” Fawkes said, raising a hand half-heartedly. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Good question,” Colomar said. “Make yourself useful.”

Fawkes snorted. “As in, blow up the ship?”

At that, Colomar barked out a laugh. “You can reinventory our food supplies.” Fawkes gave a one-finger salute and shambled off in the direction of the commons. With that, the others began to disperse. 

Before Lucio turned towards the greenhouse, he caught Lena’s eye, exchanging a look with her that Lena returned.

It was going to be a very interesting flight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confiame - trust me  
> Capitán - Captain
> 
> The way that this story is going to be formatted is in two (very messy, very weirdly grafted) arcs. The first arc, set as a prelude but interwoven throughout the story, will be the Exodus Project. The second arc will be the Earth and the members of it set in present times. This is to reveal certain plot twists as the story progresses. I'd prefer, henceforth, you read the chapters in sequential order, but I understand that's not everyone's cup of tea, and some prefer to read one arc all at once. In which case, each chapter of the first arc will be labeled with Exodus Project, and each chapter of the second arc will be labeled regularly. Hope that helps (it probably didn't).
> 
> I typed out the entirety of this thing in a Google Doc, and it was so painstaking to go back and add in italics. *sigh*  
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! :)


	2. The Solar Flare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not exactly sure why I’m writing such extensive, lengthy descriptions of nerdy sci-fi stuff and doing so much research for this, even though I enjoy it...but oh well. New chapter posted, hope you guys enjoy!

**July of 2076 - The Solar Flare**

The day began like any other. Brigitte woke up late (a trait she inherited from her father, one that her mother always despised), sometime closer to noon than to morning. Of course, any late start to a day was almost always accompanied by bouts of laziness and sluggishness - it was simply inevitable. However, these were vices Brigitte was willing to embrace if it meant she could sleep in for another extra few hours.

Brigitte took her time making coffee, adding in a few extra spoonfuls of cream (and only half a tablespoon of sugar) and yawning all the while. Älskling, the mechanical cat that her father had built for her several years ago when she herself was still young, nipped at her heels. Älskling had been built not to be sentient, because that would have been incredibly dangerous, but to be extremely aware. He was sensitive to humans’ emotions, and was able to tell when Brigitte was feeling down, or happy, or what have you. Even Brigitte’s mother had taken a liking to the cat after a while, and the woman was tough as nails.

Brigitte plopped down on the couch, turning on the holovision and flicking through the channels.  
“Today, we’ll be showing you how to make a nano-carbon fiber salad in two minutes!” said a woman excitedly, her absurdly thin arms gesturing to what looked like a bland assortment of blended nutrients. 

“Bleh,” Brigitte said, flicking to the next channel, glancing down at the bowl of oats topped with sugar and berries that she had made, and immediately felt glad she wasn’t on a nano-carbon fiber diet.

“News reports state that the weather today is going to be a warm 21°, with a chance of rain coming in from the east. Our scientologists say that there can possibly be chances for a meteor shower tonight, so make sure to look up at the night sky if you have a chance later this evening…”

“Booooring,” Brigitte said, her attention easily lost as the weatherman continued to drone on listlessly. Älskling gave a meow of agreement, rolling over on his back and gazing up at Brigitte with absolutely adorable eyes, begging for a tummy scratch.

Brigitte laughed, reaching a hand down to rub the synthetic hair that covered the underside of the mechanical cat. “Oh Älskling, I spoil you,” she said teasingly as the catlicked her hand in thanks. 

She ended up eventually settling on a Swedish drama show, where the main character, Maja, was hopelessly in love with Oskar. It wasn’t like Brigitte had watched every episode of every season since the series first started three years ago. Definitely not. 

Brigitte was just about to get up to place her bowl of soggy cereal on the table in hopes to find her holocommunicator, so she could check if she had received any messages from her father, when Brigitte noticed that the house had become just slightly colder.

“That’s weird,” Brigitte murmured to herself, wrapping bare arms around herself. “It’s dead in the middle of summer...right, Älskling?” 

Älskling, as sentient and lovely as he was, was not capable of human or intelligent thought. Sometimes, Brigitte wished that he was, because then Brigitte would have little need for any human best friend. As sad as that sounded, to Brigitte it was incredibly efficient and it saved her the pain of social interaction. 

But the thought was quickly whisked away from her mind as she made her way to the thermostat, which read a comfortable 23° Celcius. Brigitte furrowed her brow in confusion, and inched the little marker up a bit.

Brigitte was just about ready to return to her couch when she realized that a red alert was currently flashing across the holovision. 

“SOLAR FLARE...SCIENTISTS SAY INTERFERENCE WITH INTERCOMMUNICATION POSSIBLE...SOLAR FLARE...FOR MORE INFO, TUNE IN TO YOUR LOCAL NEWS STATION…” read the alert.

She peered at the screen, immediately fumbling with the remote to attempt to switch the channel. 

The screen flickered for a brief moment as the signal receptor switched, and then the popular newscaster, Claes Andreasson, was sitting behind a desk, several papers in his hands as he began to report in Swedish.

“A solar flare has just been reported. Whether it has any effect on Earth has yet to be determined, but scientists are hesitant to say that this was a passive flare. There seems to be more to the story that we’ve get to uncover. In preparation, your local area strongly advises you to begin gathering any needed materials for evacuation - this includes clothing, foods, any means of emergency communication…”

A knot of fear was beginning to settle in Brigitte’s stomach, her heart palpitations growing more irregular by the second. She glanced at Älskling, who was happily licking his own fur in contentment, oblivious to the apprehensive news alert.

Brigitte took a moment longer to stare at the screen in shock before she began running around the house, digging beneath piles of heavy, well-scribbled-on blueprints and stacks of unfolded clothing. She rummaged through her belongings for her trusty mechanic's tools and threw in a few extra sets of comfortable sweatshirts and yoga pants before she swiped her holocommunicator and Älskling in one arm, much to his protest, and stuffed them all in a backpack, making sure that Älskling had enough room to peep his head out for air if he so wished. Gently slinging the backpack over one shoulder, Brigitte took one last look at Andreasson and his concerned face before powering off the holovision and jogging out the door. 

When Brigitte was growing up, back when her father and mother were still fully devoting all their time and attention to her (and far before her father focused every rousing moment on upgrading and developing a new model of a turret), they had made sure in case of an emergency, Brigitte always knew exactly where the safety shelters were.

Sweden was actually a country with far more fallout shelters than most others, which was mostly a result of the country not being part of NATO. A while back in 2045, the government official Eric Liljeström required new shelters to be built in Stockholm, Norrbotten county, the island of Gotland, and the Öresund Region encompassing Malmö. At the time, these were the areas considered the most likely to be attacked in the case of a raid or invasion from another country.

One of the fallout shelters, or _skyddsrum_ , as they were called in Swedish, which was remarkably further but one of the safer ones, was located a few miles away by foot, but only a handful of minutes away if she took her bicycle. Though the rest of the world was growing more technologically advanced by the day, what with adding electrically-powered metros in nearly every city and holovisions in every home, Sweden was still one of the countries that relied on renewable, less expensive forms of energy. 

Building an electrically-powered metro would end up being incredibly efficient, of course, but the costs to build it directly through the natural forests that covered more than half of Sweden would be too economically costly to even consider. Considering that one of the most important routes that would require an electrically-powered metro would run directly through the Kolmården in the southern half of Sweden would damage Sweden’s wildlife beyond repair. 

Sweden wasn’t like the States, which, at this point in time, was more than willing to sacrifice nature reserves for the sake of efficiency. Sweden preferred to keep its natural beauties in exchange for methods of transportation.

This was one of the main reasons that Brigitte still owned a bike, which was considered almost ancient in certain parts of the world. Brigitte didn’t mind though; most of the time, she loved riding through certain paths of the forests and just enjoying the cool breeze, the chirp of the birds, the way everything seemed quieter and hushed and she could just stop and think for a bit…

But not today. Brigitte was bicycling towards the fallout shelter in the region of Öresund, praying that this solar flare thing was just a mistake and everything would be fine.

But things are never merely “mistakes”. That is not the way of the world, and Brigitte knew it.

She arrived at the shelter within less than half an hour. There were many people who were already there, milling around and speaking to one another in hushed voices. The feeling of fear was palpable in the room, and it set Brigitte’s hairs on end. She felt foolish walking her bicycle inside, and figured that hopefully things would be all right, so she ended up leaving her bicycle outside, unchained. It was cheap, and rusted, and not something worth stealing anyways. Any thief would be doing her a favor regardless, as it would force her to actually buy a better, enhanced model that required less mechanical work.

Brigitte was unsure of what to do - should she mingle with people, ask what was going on? Though she was shy, Brigitte had no problem taking charge of a group of people if the need so arose. It wasn’t that she was a natural leader, or that being courageous was a particularly striking habit of hers; it was just that Brigitte liked uniting people and working together in times of trouble. However, now Brigitte was also scared, and it definitely seemed like no one here knew quite what to do.

Brigitte felt a rustling in her pack, and it took her a second too long to realize that Älskling was trying to wriggle out of her backpack from the tiny zipped up spot she had left him in.

“Hey - Älskling! What are you doing?” Brigitte said, twisting her back as she tried to turn around and see what he was doing. It was too late, however - that nimble creature had already slipped from the confines of her backpack and landed on the ground, doing exactly what Brigitte had been so hesitant about in the first place...he darted towards the immense crowd of people who were clustered inside the shelter.

“Älskling!” Brigitte said, trying to keep her voice down as irritation bubbled to the surface, momentarily overpowering her uneasiness. “Get back here, you rascal!”

Brigitte attempted to pursue the tiny calico, but immediately lost him between all the pairs of feet. “No, no, no,” Brigitte whispered underneath her breath, desperately trying to catch any glimpse of movement. 

Brigitte ended up moving further and further inside the shelter, the lights growing dimmer and dimmer the deeper inside she went, and the air more stale and far more warm, which was strange - the air should have been warmest near the mouth of the shelter, but no matter.

There was a slight commotion to her left, a series of surprised murmurs and gasps, and Brigitte turned in that direction, immediately finding the troublesome calico wrapped around a dashing blonde, who was seated with a darker-skinned man and a beautiful woman who looked Middle Eastern. Their faces were a blur, however, as Brigitte made a mad dash towards her cat. “Älskling! That’s the last time I’m putting you in my backpack,” Brigitte scolded, peeling her cat away from where it had been snugly curled around the blonde.

Älskling yowled in protest, but didn’t resist Brigitte, probably feeling guilty about what he did. 

Brigitte huffed as she shouldered her backpack off with one arm and gently placed Älskling inside, zipping it tight enough that he wouldn’t be able to escape this time. 

Glancing up, Brigitte apologized to the blonde, “I’m so sorry! I had no idea that he was going to do that...I should have had better control of him.”

The blonde grinned at Brigitte, his face suddenly becoming twice as attractive as his wonderfully blue eyes creased in amusement. “Don’t worry about it, I quite enjoyed the surprise actually.” His voice was pleasantly gruff, his tone conveying that he really wasn’t bothered by the sudden intrusion.

Brigitte felt a wave of relief crash over her, however short-lived it was as the gravity of their situation crashed down on her once again. “Thank you so much sir,” she said in thanks, offering a smile of thanks in return.

“The name’s Jack,” he returned amiably, reaching out to shake hands with her, which she readily accepted. “These are my friends,” he said as he turned, gesturing to the two other people seated besides him. The woman raised her hand in a wave, and the male merely grunted and nodded by way of greeting, which earned an elbow from the woman.

“This is Ana; she’s Egyptian,” Jack said, “and this is Gabe, whom I’ve been good friends with for several years...despite my better judgement.”

“Hey _cabrón_ , you better watch what you say,” Gabriel said, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Jack, which earned a laugh from the teasing blonde.

“I’m _kidding_ , Reyes,” Jack said, his eyes twinkling.

Brigitte couldn’t help but smile at their interactions, but felt just slightly awkward, as if she were seeing something that she shouldn’t have. They seemed good friends, especially Jack and Gabe (or Reyes, as Jack had called him). 

“Anyways,” interrupted the woman, Ana, as she rolled her eyes as her two friends made playful jabs at each other, “why are you here, _habibi_?” 

“Um,” Brigitte started nervously, feeling Reyes’ and Jack’s eyes turning to her as well. She fidgeted for a brief moment before she said, “I suppose the same reason as everybody else. I saw the news alert, and I was worried, so I headed to this shelter, which is supposed to be the biggest and safest...I think.”

Ana smiled warmly at her, and Brigitte offered a small smile back. “Yeah…” Ana said thoughtfully, leaning back a bit from where she was sitting on a fold-out chair. “That’s kind of what happened to the three of us. We were held up at the airport - you see, we’re from the States...or at least, Jack and Gabi are.”

Brigitte could sense more than see Reyes’ embarrassed reaction to Ana’s nickname of him, but she didn’t dare look at him - she was slightly intimidated by him for some reason.

“We were having a...business trip here,” Ana continued. “It was extended a couple weeks longer than we had planned, and today was supposed to be our last day in Sweden.”

“That’s rather unfortunate,” Brigitte admitted, giving them a sympathetic look.

“Have you lived here your entire life?” Jack asked conversationally.

“Oh, yes!” Brigitte said, lighting up at the mention of the country she loved so dearly. “It has always been a dream of mine to accompany my father to the States and pursue schooling in mechanical studies there to learn alongside him, be his apprentice but...unfortunately, things didn’t turn out the way I wished,” Brigitte said sadly. “However, I am still glad to have been able to stay here, in Sweden, for I love it very much.”

“That’s wonderful,” Ana said with an almost homesick expression, as if she missed her homeland very much. “Your accent is very pretty, by the way.”

“Oh, thank you!” Brigitte said, feeling Reyes’ stare on her more than ever now and immediately feeling self-conscious. “Yours is very...wonderful too.”

This earned amused chuckles from both Jack and Ana at Brigitte’s awkwardness, which Brigitte herself joined in on.

“So, this solar flare thing…” Reyes said, speaking for the first time throughout the entire conversation. “I’m no scientist - I’m better when it comes to strategics, if I’m being honest,” which earned a small nod of agreement from Jack, “but the scientists were ‘hesitant in calling it a passive flare’. What does that mean, exactly? Is there something they’re...not telling us?”

There was a moment of silence between the trio as they took a moment to rack their brains for any logical answer they could provide…

When suddenly, a freezing gust of wind caressed Brigitte’s skin.

Freezing, as in the type that was associated with the chill of frost, the bite of snow, the numbness of winter.

Brigitte looked around, curious to know what was going on, and was shocked to hear someone exclaim, “It’s snowing outside! Come look, come look!”

 _What_ , exactly, was this solar flare?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: “Älskling” is supposed to mean “darling” or “sweetheart” in Swedish.
> 
> The 21/23° is in Celsius, because even though I use Fahrenheit, Sweden uses Celsius. Technicalities.
> 
> The months preceding the years in the “Earth Arc” timeline aren’t going to be significant; they’re merely in place to represent the fact that time is passing.
> 
> Also, with so many characters, I’m not quite sure how to carry this all out. About a few months ago, when I had originally started to plot this thing out (and before Brigitte was even an official hero), I planned for the work to be based on Brigitte and Liao, but now that Brigitte’s an official hero, I’m not so sure. We’ll see. I’m flying by the seat of my pants here. Also, I’m not really sure why I put the Exodus Project in present tense and the “Earth Arc” in past tense it’s all so confusing I’m so sorry!
> 
> I didn’t expect this to get so many views in so little time! I suppose the views aren’t actually a whole lot, quantitatively speaking, but accompanied with a handful of kudos and a few lovely comments, I can die a happy woman.  
> I really hope you guys are happy, because as I’m writing this, I had to escape to the library for my open period and instead of studying for my spanish exam I’m just sitting here, typing furiously...as everybody else is working quietly. 
> 
> As always, please make sure to leave me a comment and a heart if you enjoyed the chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, loves!


End file.
